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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27701945">The Agent</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/carloabay/pseuds/carloabay'>carloabay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we don't need a license [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>20th Century, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Deaf Clint Barton, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Latina Maria Hill, Mafia AU, Organized Crime, Possibly Unrequited Love, Private Investigator Carol Danvers, Romani Wanda Maximoff, Swearing, Violence, a n g s t</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 04:02:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27701945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/carloabay/pseuds/carloabay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a little early to say exactly how she should proceed.</p><p>(new chapter!)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov, Melinda May/Bobbi Morse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we don't need a license [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Status: Alive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Series re-cap: after S.H.I.E.L.D struck a deal with the infamous Black Widow to take down Hydra and Red and succeeded, a horrifying series of murders planned by Tony Stark was shoved into Maria Hill's way, and soon enough, sleeper agents of Hydra within S.H.I.E.L.D came to light in an epic three-way battle after the capture of Agent Coulson by the mercenary known as Deadpool. Agent Maria Hill struggled throughout the mess to remain impartial and straight-thinking, especially with Natasha Romanova hunting her down at every corner. Now that the battle is over, Maria doesn't know what to do.</p><p>Read The Widow and The Mechanic first!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Agent Hill has a choice to make when she gets an unexpected visitor.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>:)))) I'm back.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carol lit a cigarette and glared at the pages in front of her. Her office, previously lit by the cold sun, was sinking into darkness, the end of the cigarette like a tiny torch.</p><p>Newspapers. Police reports. Photographs. </p><p>Never once before in her career had Carol been so bitterly disappointed with the result of the case.</p><p>She had a goddamn mob boss in the palm of her hand, and there was not a hellish thing she could do with him.</p><p>Carol had half a mind to make her way through two bottles of aged wine, grab a pair of knuckle-dusters and bully and batter her way to getting Tony Stark in handcuffs.</p><p>No one had gotten this close before. Stark was slippery and clever, and if Carol didn't make a decision soon, she had a bad feeling there'd be a bullet in her brain before long.</p><p>∆</p><p>Kate shouldered people rudely out of Clint's space. She knew he would snap at them, if he had the energy, but he didn't. They watched Coulson being loaded into the back of the ambulance, his chest rising and falling raggedly. </p><p>The air was bitterly full of smoke and dust.</p><p>"He's gonna be okay," Kate said, more hopefully than reassuringly. Clint had his head down, and one of his hearing aids was wrecked, dangling from a bloodied ear. Kate grabbed his cheek and wrenched his head around. He stared her morosely in the eye. <em>He will be okay</em>, she signed. </p><p><em>Let's go home</em>, Clint replied.</p><p>∆</p><p>They discharged her with barely a backward glance. Truth be told, Maria would rather limp home than be wrangled into a hospital bed anyway.</p><p>Ward was Hydra. Garrett, too. Rumlow, Rollins, hell, Alexander Pierce. </p><p>Maria didn't know if she was surprised. She'd gotten a glimpse of Director Carter on her way out, ducking into a car with tinted windows, and the rage behind that tight mask was enough to raise a shiver in Maria.</p><p>She dragged herself to May's room, a struggle down eight identical white hospital hallways, and finally, she leant on the handle with her one good arm and pushed the door open.</p><p>Bobbi was sitting on the bed. She stood guiltily, blinking, as Maria stepped in, and May let her gaze drift easily to the window.</p><p>"Am I interrupting?" Maria asked warily. Bobbi muttered something about coffee and left, cradling her arm cast, the tips of her ears glowing. May seemed like she was pretending not to notice. "You alright?" Maria said, once the door had swung shut behind Bobbi. May cast her a careless, critical glance.</p><p>"As well as I can be with a hole in my leg," she replied crisply. Maria sat on the bed, the mattress dipping dramatically with a creak.</p><p>"You'll walk, right?"</p><p>"It's harmless," May said, digging her fingers into the coverlet. Maria sighed.</p><p>"Sorry I left, I--"</p><p>"Should have come back, I know." May looked at her, corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. "You know I can guess at all the bullshit that comes outta your mouth, Hill." Maria grinned back. "Don't grin at me."</p><p>"Course." An amenable silence fell like a curtain between them. The light was soft, the glow of New York like a yellow sunset outside the darkened window. "They couldn't track Ward down."</p><p>"Fury told me," May said. "I don't know who told that Skye girl, from Tech."</p><p>"They were together?"</p><p>"Going about a week strong," May replied dryly. "Poor girl. Idiot, but I feel sorry for her." Maria nodded at the floor. Her shoulder twinged distantly. "She wants to become a field agent," May added. </p><p>"Good for her," Maria replied, dismally. "You hear any news on Coulson?"</p><p>"He's on a ventilator," May growled. "Nothing else. Completely classified."</p><p>"I'll bet Barton's a wreck."</p><p>"Agent Bishop took him home." Maria relaxed into her seat, and May tipped her head back against the headboard. </p><p>This silence was familiar, this was old. The battle survivors. The ones who'd made it through a hundred times before, and all the conversations, the guilt-laden recount of the dead and the dying, Maria knew all too well. It was how they coped.</p><p>A trading of words, in the melancholy aftermath.</p><p>"I gotta get home," Maria said, after a long moment. May nodded. </p><p>“Driving?”</p><p>“Hell no. With this arm? Fury called me a cab.”</p><p>“I’ll see you around,” May said, relaxing into her pillows. Maria stood slowly, and she was halfway to the door when she stopped. </p><p>“May,” she said, without turning around. That kiss from hours before, locked against the wall with Natasha’s hand gripping her chin... </p><p>“Yeah?” Not even a rustle of fabric. Maria kneaded a stretched muscle in her neck with careful fingers, thinking about Bobbi’s flushed ears and her knees, drawn right up onto the bed.</p><p>“Be careful,” she managed. It wasn’t like she could say anything. </p><p>“You too,” May replied coldly. Maria had a feeling May had figured out exactly what she was trying to say.</p><p>She left before the windows could start frosting over.</p><p>∆</p><p>It was too cold. Maria’s breath was coming out in clouds, and the key scraped back and forth over the lock as she shivered. Her shoulder was creaking painfully.</p><p>Finally, she managed it. The key slid in and turned with a squeak, and Maria wriggled the handle until the door gave way and opened.</p><p>The front room was freezing and dark. Maria shrugged her coat off with a growl of pain and slung it carelessly over her coat rack.</p><p>She made it to the tiny kitchen without incident, staggering through the dark. She slapped the wall blindly, feeling around for the light switch, pain stabbing through her ribs, her shoulder. The window was blocked by a silhouette, the glow of the city outside surging around someone’s slight form, seated on the narrow kitchen counter. Maria registered this slowly.</p><p>“You’re injured,” they said, and she knew that low voice. Even if she wished she didn’t. Maria found the light switch and flicked it on violently on. She glared through the sudden brightness, snapping away a headache with a flick of her eyelids.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Maria snapped. Natasha raised her hands in surrender, but the gesture wasn’t mocking. Her eyes weren’t savage, they were hooded and there was something like world-weariness around her mouth. Maria let her glare thaw away. </p><p>“Don’t shoot,” Natasha joked, without humour. She was wearing a pink blouse and jeans and a long black coat, and she looked far too young to be sitting on Maria’s counter with that kind of ancient pain in her eyes.</p><p>“What do you want?” Maria asked, less brittle this time. Natasha ducked her head like she was looking at her nails. Somehow, Maria knew better than to believe that action. “Natasha?”</p><p>“Look, you don’t owe me anything,” she started, rubbing the pad of her finger on the edge of the counter. Maria narrowed her eyes cautiously.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Lemme finish,” Natasha replied sharply, and then she took a shaking breath, in through her open mouth, and her tongue was bright red under the pale light. “I mean...I know what I am. You can...you can walk away, and I won’t hound you no more.” She looked up, finally, eyelashes trembling. Maria let her gaze switch from eye to emerald eye. “I promise.”</p><p>She’d never really wanted Natasha gone. Even if it was always just threats and blood pooling at their feet, Maria had tracked her down, had pinned everything she could on Natasha, she’d dragged her way into her base with broken ribs and dared her to end it.</p><p>“Can you promise I won’t hound <em>you</em> anymore?” Maria asked casually. She waited for Natasha to blink, slowly, to widen her eyes just slightly, to get a little curve at the corner of her mouth, and then Maria smiled tightly. “I would kiss you,” she said, trying so hard not to think about those words, “but I’m leaking through the bandages.” Natasha grinned that time, teeth winking like pearls.</p><p>“Idiot.”</p><p>“You’re one to talk,” Maria wheezed. Natasha hopped off the counter and held out a hand, flashing a beckoning sign. Maria took it, swallowing trepidation and something else, something deeper. Natasha led her to the counter, warm palm, gentle walk. She patted one of the chairs and Maria collapsed gratefully onto it, eyes fluttering closed; Natasha’s footsteps tapped away behind her, the sound of cupboards opening, rickety drawers chattering on their wheels. “What are you looking for?” Maria groaned.</p><p>Natasha slipped elegantly out of her coat and flung it around Maria’s shoulders. Maria frowned at her.</p><p>“You wouldn’t stop shivering,” Natasha explained with a roll of her eyes. Her hand brushed the back of the chair as she moved off again. Maria wanted those warm fingers on the nape on her neck, in her hand, around her shoulder. Her eyes were stiffening with sleep.</p><p>Natasha set something down on the counter with a sharp <em>clack</em>, and Maria jerked awake, properly. Natasha snorted and drew up another chair with a harsh scrape.</p><p>“Where you bleedin’?” she asked, leaning over to wash her hands in the sink.</p><p>“One of your people got me with a knife right here,” Maria said bitterly, gesturing to the hurriedly-bandaged gash just above her hip, grinding against her shirt every time she moved. </p><p>“Wish I could apologise, but ya did come to kill me,” Natasha replied, flippant. Maria met her eyes, and Natasha looked away almost instantly. “I’m sorry,” she said after a second. “Hill-“</p><p>“No,” Maria sighed, and Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You have to call me Maria now.” There was a pause, entirely too long.</p><p>“Can you unbutton your shirt?”</p><p>“Natasha.”</p><p>“Hill.”</p><p>“<em>Natasha</em>.”</p><p>“God, Maria! Unbutton your damn shirt,” Natasha snapped, finally. Maria hid a smile. “Don’t you make that face,” Natasha growled. Maria reached for her top button, slowly, with her uninjured arm. Natasha sighed and leant forward, slapping Maria’s hands away. </p><p>“Oh, so you’re undressing me now?” Maria asked teasingly, but her throat was constricting. Natasha flicked open the top button, and made her careful way down, until the shirt was hanging off Maria’s shoulders. There was a bloodied rip near the bottom of the shirt, and Natasha scoffed at it and tucked the tails of the shirt back around Maria’s bare hips.</p><p>It was soaked through, bright red. Natasha’s hand shook for a moment. Another silence sizzled between the two of them, the image of Natasha's pale hand stark against Maria's skin.</p><p>"You're a mess, H- Maria," she said, avoiding Maria's eyes. A small triumph bloomed in Maria's chest.</p><p>"I'd bleed less if not for you," Maria said. It came out like gravel, and Natasha paused, halfway through reaching for the ruined bandage knot.</p><p>"I thought you didn't remember that," she replied, a hiss of breath. Something like rage snapped ugly claws beneath Maria's skin, hot, lashing out. She dug her fingers into the fabric of Natasha's coat.</p><p>"The doctor didn't quite do his job, then?" Natasha looked at her, finally, lashes light and thick and half hiding her eyes.</p><p>"I ain't send Banner," she said. Maria shoved Natasha's hands away.</p><p>"Of course," she said, bitterly. "And you didn't kill Whitney Frost, and you didn't send a Russian assassin after me, and you have <em>no idea</em> how Hydra managed to drag itself out of the dirt-"</p><p>"I had <em>nothin'</em> to do with Hydra!" Natasha spat, and it was so sudden that Maria flinched away, the chair squeaking against the linoleum floor. She cursed herself for it. Natasha looked enraged, ghostly white, taught around her jaw. Maria glared back, refusing to back down.</p><p>The kitchen had gone from quiet to thick with anger in less than seconds. The cold air was raising the hairs on Maria's skin, and her body gave a single, violent shudder.</p><p>The movement broke the tension like a gunshot, and Natasha sighed, short and sharp. She reached for Maria's hip again.</p><p>"Damn you," she muttered, tugging the bandage knot apart. The dressing unravelled, loosening around Maria's waist, and Natasha picked it apart with gleaming fingernails.</p><p>The stitches were seeping, one was popped, the skin ripped. Natasha wrinkled her nose.</p><p>"Want me to get you some ice for that shoulder?" she asked, nodding to Maria's injured arm. Maria stared stubbornly at the wall beside Natasha's head. </p><p>After a second, Natasha sighed and stood, walked away, and then there was a creak of ice and a rustle as she searched around in the freezer.</p><p>She came back, and slapped a rubber tray of ice cubes hard down onto Maria's shoulder. A flash of pain snaked down Maria's arm and she choked back a cry, glaring wetly at Natasha instead.</p><p>It took a long, subtly painful thirty minutes for Natasha to clean up the gash and repair the stitches and re-bandage the whole thing, muttering occasionally under her breath in about forty different languages, deft fingers and blood smearing the creases of her palm.</p><p>Maria's throat started to twinge with regret and fear about halfway through, about the time she caught a glimpse of the handle of a gun tucked into Natasha's pants. This was a dangerous woman. A murderer. A murderer, sitting in Maria's kitchen with an expensive gun and her fingers digging around, still slippery with Maria's blood, as they had been ever since that night at Red Hook.</p><p>Once finished, Natasha sat back and wiped her eyes with the bend of her wrist, surveying her work. </p><p>"I know what I said," Maria started, and Natasha's eyes snapped up to hers. "But..."</p><p>"Didn't take you for one to get cold feet," Natasha said instantly, latching carefully onto the point. Maria shook her head angrily.</p><p>"You're still a killer, Natasha." She pretended not to notice the shard-like look rising up in Natasha's eye. "Just because you kissed me, doesn't mean..."</p><p>"Doesn't mean what?" Natasha asked, tilting her head. Maria got a shock of the past, of an unspoken challenge behind the end of a cigarette, red-painted nails on an ancient old desk.</p><p>"You can't- we can't do this."</p><p>"Are ya takin' your own advice?"</p><p>"You said I could pull out," Maria said, and she hated the sound of a plead in her voice. "You said I didn't owe you anything."</p><p>"Don't beg me, Maria," Natasha warned. "It's not you. You don't want me? Say it."</p><p>"You don't know the first thing about me," Maria hissed, instantly irked. There it was again, that hot tension, like a flame gobbling up gunpowder.</p><p>"Nor you me," Natasha replied coolly. "I was offerin' to learn, though. If you wanted it."</p><p>"I don't." There shouldn't have been this pain at the back of her chest, sitting like a canker under her sternum. She was doing the right thing.</p><p>Natasha bent her head. Maria managed to convince herself of what this act was, because that was all. It <em>was</em> an act. She'd have to be stupid to let Natasha Romanova into her life.</p><p>As if she'd never even been there.</p><p>"Then I won't hound you no more," Natasha said, finally, her accent souring the words. She stood, wiping her hands carelessly on her jeans, leaving marks of Maria's blood all over them. She snagged her coat from around Maria's shoulders, shrugged it on, and walked away.</p><p>Maria waited, until the click of shoes stepped over the threshold and the front door had closed completely, and then she bared her teeth, like some kind of animal in pain, gritted them, just to keep back the rush of regret. Like she hadn't been doing the right thing all along. She let her head fall onto the counter, twisting her spin cruelly, and the surface was freezing cold and hard as ice.</p><p>It had all just seemed so <em>wrong</em>.</p><p>∆</p><p>James met her on the sidewalk outside the husk of Matt's place.</p><p>There was a faraway look in his eyes. She recognised it, from years ago, from ship crates and muttered Russian and ragged banknotes stuffed into knapsacks.</p><p>It only served her purpose tonight.</p><p>"What do you want?" he asked, hands deep in his pockets, tongue between his teeth.</p><p>"What do you want?" Natasha countered. James glared at the pavement, but it lacked force.</p><p>"I want to stop fuckin' thinkin'," he snapped.</p><p>"Done," Natasha said easily, and she gripped the collar of his bloodstained shirt and kissed him. Harsh. Harder, if it would only blind her thoughts. James growled against her teeth.</p><p>"This ain't what we need, Natasha," he mumbled, one arm locked around her waist. Natasha slid her tongue into his mouth, dragged her fingers through his hair and tugged on a handful of it, rucked her hips against him. It was heated in all the ways she didn't want, but it was blanking out the business of her head, and that was all she could think to do right now. </p><p>They parted, gasping for breath, and he tucked his face down, pressed his lips to her throat.</p><p>"We're done with this tomorrow morning," Natasha rasped. </p><p>"Wouldn't have it any other way," James grumbled against her skin. </p><p>To Natasha, there was no Maria Hill anymore.</p><p>∆</p><p>Carol slapped the file down on Fury's desk and threw herself into the couch in the corner of his office. </p><p>"The hell is this?" he grunted, loosening his tie.</p><p>"G'd evening to you too," Carol replied.</p><p>"It's three in the morning."</p><p>"Tony Stark ordered the death of Whitney Frost." No movement from Fury. Carol cocked an eye at him. "Oh come on, I thought you'd be impressed," she teased dryly.</p><p>"You're not in trouble, are you?" he asked, opening the file.</p><p>"Ever worried for my lack of self-preservation?"</p><p>"Always. Oh, Motherfucker!"</p><p>"Got to the ghostly part, have you?" Carol said, linking her arms behind her head.</p><p>"How in the hell...?" Fury breathed. "I gotta take this to Carter."</p><p>"Not so fast," Carol said, rising from the couch with a muscle strain in her left leg. Fury raised an eyebrow at her. Carol tipped her head from side to side, hesitating.</p><p>"You wanna get paid?" Fury asked. <em>Sure. Let's go with that</em>.</p><p>"Absolutely. I didn't work my ass off to give you that just so I could get ripped off by a mob boss and go back home 'n get killed."</p><p>"You took a case from Tony Stark?" Fury rumbled, eye widening. Carol flapped her hand.</p><p>"Irrelevant."</p><p>"It most certainly is not-"</p><p>"Fury. I'm dead on my feet. I'm <em>literally</em> dead if you send me back home." Carol spread her arms hopefully. "Got space for another agent?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>More BlackHill to come in next chapters, don't you worry your li'l cotton socks!</p><p>Pls feedback, lmk how I did!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Status: On Call</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha tries to wipe herself of everything she's gotten into. Maria grinds her teeth at the baby agents. Clint...does Clint stuff.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So this is kinda filler to give u an idea at this stage of where everybody is emotionally and physically and maybe grammatically too</p><p>It's cute, mostly. At cute as a couple of bloodthirsty mafia members and beat-up agents can get, anyway. Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stripes of sun were splitting the wall into grey and golden bands, the shadow of the open shutters.</p><p>His hand was on her hip, heated skin, gun callouses. The sheet was draped over her legs, twining through her ankles, but the air was warm. </p><p>James woke with a hot breath on the back of Natasha's neck. It seemed to take him a second too long to get his bearings, and he grunted in confusion.</p><p>“Sorry,” he said, coarse voice. “I really did mean to leave las’ night.” </p><p>“Why didn’t you kill Agent Hill?” Natasha asked. James went very still, and a cold silence drifted past Natasha's ear. Finally, he sat up, his shadow blurring past the shuttered gold on the wall, a darkened silhouette.</p><p>"Nat-"</p><p>"You know what happens, James."</p><p>"You're not going to kill me," he said, softly. She might have lashed out at that, if there hadn't been some sort of uncertainty in his voice. </p><p>He shouldn't be allowed to say that.</p><p>"What makes you so sure?"</p><p>"You would have already done it."</p><p>"Black Widow spiders kill their mates <em>after</em> they sleep with 'em," Natasha replied, as coldly as she could. James snorted roughly.</p><p>"Go on, then," he challenged, and his shadow spread its arms, fingers flying, splayed. The very picture of vulnerability. "Got a knife hidden where the sun don't shine?" One arm dropped, flicked the covers back, and then his hand was sliding over her thigh, rough and gentle, and she could feel all the lines in it, all the life. Natasha kicked him away, shutting out a smile, and James laughed. </p><p>"You made sure I didn't."</p><p>"Get back over here and kiss me," he said, withdrawing his hand, and slumping down onto one elbow.</p><p>"You're takin' liberties that don't belong to ya," Natasha replied, but she turned over with a groan anyway. The sun was backlighting James' head, turning his hair golden, glinting off his crooked stare.</p><p>"God, you're beautiful," he whispered. He cleared his throat, like he'd meant to say it aloud, and ducked his head. Natasha ignored the warmth snaking around her spine.</p><p>"I'd said we'd be done with this by now," Natasha said, reaching out to touch him. She let her fingers drift over his chest, up his arm, across his jaw. He tilted his face into her touch, something raw dancing over their skin like static.</p><p>"And look at us," James said, and when he leaned in to kiss her, she didn't pull away. </p><p>She couldn't. There was nothing else, golden sun and the point where they met, and right now, she couldn't have it any other way.</p><p>∆</p><p>"Go home, Hill," Fury said, throwing the words over her desk as he passed by.</p><p>"Good morning," Maria replied, cocking her head with a strong dose of sarcasm. Fury eyed her and stopped walking.</p><p>"I said, go home."</p><p>"With all due respect," Maria started, and Fury raised an eyebrow. "...no."</p><p>"I'll put y'on the baby agents," he warned.</p><p>"Good," Maria fired back, regret already building. Fury turned fully, hands on his hips, a file crinkling in his fist.</p><p>"They're learning radio etiquette."</p><p>
  <em>Dear God, no.</em>
</p><p>"Down in Comms?" Maria inquired, rising from her seat, stubbornly ignoring the harsh pain in her side.</p><p>"Hill," Fury said.</p><p>"Agent Fury," Maria challenged.</p><p>"I'll drive y'outta here in a goddamn straitjacket."</p><p>"You'll have to," Maria snorted. Fury glared at her a moment longer, and then he stalked away and Maria cursed under her breath. The baby agents? Really?</p><p>∆</p><p>"It's purple."</p><p>"It's <em>hip</em>."</p><p>"Fucking hell."</p><p>"Look, I've got Mickey Band-Aids, too," Clint said, proudly, presenting his forehead. </p><p>"Clint, those are for kids," Kate replied, still staring at the outlandishly <em>purple</em> arm cast. She dumped the grocery bag on the counter, and Clint wrinkled his nose at it.</p><p>"What's that?"</p><p>"Vegetables."</p><p>"Come off it," he joked. "You're not that sensible, Katie." He hopped up on the counter with one hand as a spring. "Anyway, I've got a lifetime supply of coffee."</p><p>"It's Kate. And coffee isn't a vegetable, Clint."</p><p>"You tire me out. I'm not eating vegetables."</p><p>"Jesus, are you twelve years old?" Kate replied, throwing herself into his ratty lounge chair. Clint whacked his heels back against the cupboards, making them rattle on their hinges.</p><p>"Wanna get pizza?" he asked, hopefully. Kate eyes the grocery bags. A grin spread across Clint's face.</p><p>"You know there's seven mafia bosses out for your head," she said, but it wasn't a disagreement.</p><p>"So you <em>do</em> want to get pizza."</p><p>"You should have higher priorities," Kate grumbled.</p><p>"Yes!" Clint hissed, and he ran for the hall phone.</p><p>∆</p><p>"You start with your unit's call sign," Maria said wearily, desperately needing to fold into a comfortable chair and drink herself to death. "You then introduce your own call sign. Dietti, go."</p><p>Dietti smirked, slowly, and keyed his radio.</p><p>"This is the Cavalry," he said, and someone started sniggering. "Lead Horse, calling in." Laughter, now, quiet, persistent. Dietti moved the radio to his mouth again and Maria had a right mind to snatch it from his hand and shove it up his ass.</p><p>"Be quiet," she snapped, and the room fell silent very suddenly. Maria glared at Dietti and he rolled his eyes and lowered his radio. She took a couple steps forward, ignoring the part of her that wanted to double up in pain over her stab wound. Fury, as much as it might rile her to admit it, had been right.</p><p>"Sorry, ma'am," Dietti said, placing an emphasis on her title. Maria almost twitched with anger. Almost.</p><p>"It's <em>Agent</em>," she replied. "Where is your radio supposed to go, Agent Dietti?"</p><p>"Top pocket," he said, confusing flashing across his face. Maria tilted her head.</p><p>"Go on, then. Put it away. You can't be trusted to use it."</p><p>He moved his hand, up, and the radio passed Maria's shoulder. She elbowed his wrist, quick as a flash, grabbed his forearm and drove her other thumb knuckle into the pressure point on the outside of his bicep. Dietti squealed like a child and dropped the radio, and Maria caught it deftly, letting go of his arm. Dietti stumbled back, clutching his bicep with a wounded expression on his face. Maria wiggled the radio at his.</p><p>"I thought I told you to put it away?" She was teasing him, and this hadn't been the way she'd expected the lesson to go, but at least no one was laughing any longer. Dietti blinked back tears of pain. "Do I have your respect, yet?"</p><p>"Yes," Dietti mumbled, looking like a kicked dog. Maria raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Agent Hill." She tossed the radio back and crossed her arms.</p><p>"Good. Let's keep it that way."</p><p>∆</p><p>"Hill knows." Bobbi paused, letting the door swing shut.</p><p>"Just so we're talking about the same thing-"</p><p>"Us," Melinda said, and Bobbi nodded, trying to mirror Melinda's cooled expression. "I can hear you freaking out."</p><p>"I'm not freaking out," Bobbi said, rolling her eyes.</p><p>"She's fine," Melinda replied, and a tightness eased around Bobbi's ribs.</p><p>"Good. That's good. I was gonna bring coffee, but-"</p><p>"It's shitty and there was no creamer, I know," Melinda replied, a smile growing, dimpling her cheeks, around her eyes. Bobbi bit her lip. </p><p>The March morning outside was golden and fresh-looking, blue skies for once. The light from the window was sliding over the white sheets of Melinda's bed, over her fingers, knotted on her lap. Bobbi's heart expanded like a balloon.</p><p>"Hey." Melinda cocked her head. "We're okay. I'm not dead. You're not dead. We still have our <em>jobs</em>-"</p><p>"I know," Bobbi said, with a huff of laughter. "I know. I'm glad."</p><p>"Then get the hell over here and kiss me, you idiot," Melinda said. Bobbi grinned back, crossing the room in three quick strides. She tugged on the covers, leaning close.</p><p>"Says the girl with a bullet hole in her leg."</p><p>"Says the girl who jumped out a moving van."</p><p>"God, you're the worst," Bobbi breathed, and Melinda tipped her chin up for a kiss.</p><p>∆</p><p>They wasted the morning in bed. </p><p>"So you're <em>not</em> gonna kill me?" James asked, tugging on his underpants. Natasha threw a pillow at him.</p><p>"Don't hold your breath," she muttered, and he grinned at her. The sun had long since faded from the window, now coldly shining somewhere above, probably. </p><p>The room had gotten hotter, though. Natasha kicked the warm sheets away and sprawled across the mattress, tipping her chin up towards the ceiling. James looked away.</p><p>He pulled his shirt on, a swirl of linen, and then his pants, the suspenders hanging around his knees.</p><p>"What are we gonna to do?" Natasha asked softly. He turned, fingers on his buttons, and blinked at her slowly.</p><p>"You call the shots, Natalia," he said. "Ya know ya do." Neither of them reacted to his words. It had always been an <em>unspoken</em> truth.</p><p>"I don't want to, anymore," she said, and something petulant crept into her voice. There was a silence, not cold, just expectant. Then James sighed.</p><p>"I know about you 'n' Hill," he said. The muscle over Natasha's abdomen tensed, and she tried not to catch her breath.</p><p>How could he know? Not even Yelena had guessed.</p><p>Natasha glared at the ceiling, and James went bravely on.</p><p>"It's okay."</p><p>"I know it's okay," she snapped, and then she took a calming breath. "I do what I want."</p><p>"You don't have to kill me over your sordid secrets," James replied, and Natasha had an urge to throttle him. Not an entirely misplaced one.</p><p>"Get to the point," she said, through gritted teeth.</p><p>"I don't wanna to be your second-choice fuck," he said, and the way he phrased it made Natasha want to tear the feathers out of the pillows. </p><p>She could have defended herself. She could have covered whatever twisted thing she and Hill <em>used</em> to have. She could have told him he was wrong and dragged him back to bed.</p><p>"Then get out," she said, harsh. </p><p>She waited twenty seconds, and when she bothered to look up, he was gone.</p><p>∆</p><p>"Tony, please."</p><p>"Rhodey, if you don't fuck off, I'm gettin' Quill to slip me a good solid lotta cocaine and-"</p><p>"Tony you ain't never done cocaine in your whole life, I have that on good authority, now get your ass outta that chair or I'll call Pepper."</p><p>Tony opened his eyes. The ceiling light blazed at him, dancing into two glaring circles, and he shut his eyes again.</p><p>"What the hell is the matter with you?"</p><p>"I'm goin' through something."</p><p>"Can you go through it <em>sober</em>?"</p><p>"If you would just <em>listen</em> to me," Tony snapped, suddenly irked, and Rhodes fell silent. "For one <em>goddamn</em> second-" he sat upright, and it was an aching, dizzy challenge, but he managed it- "I will tell you that not everything...is peachy keen right now." </p><p>Rhodes was standing, arms crossed, shoulder holster over his shirt, in front of the liquor cabinet.</p><p>Angel to the Garden of Eden. Tony gave a snigger that turned into a sob.</p><p>"Tony?"</p><p>"You wouldn't understand."</p><p>"Go ahead and try me," Rhodes said, raising his eyebrows.</p><p>"It's Steve," Tony blurted. "Rogers, I mean. The Captain."</p><p>"Got it. What'd he do?"</p><p>"What didn't he do?" Tony muttered to himself, and then he giggled, more like a hiccup, to be honest. "What he <em>did</em> do is walk that gorgeous ass right in through my door eight years ago and ask me what the hell I thought I was doin', lugging brandy through his territory-"</p><p>"Tony," Rhodes said, and his voice was low and dangerous enough to get Tony to stop rambling, aimlessly.</p><p>"I said too much, like usual," Tony said, with a vague, witless gesture. "God."</p><p>"You saying what I think you're saying?" Rhodes asked. Tony let loose a heavy, heavy sigh.</p><p>"You hate me for it?"</p><p>The light really was damnably blinding, but even through a haze, Tony could see Rhodes smile.</p><p>"I couldn't hate you, Tony."</p><p>"You're fucking sure?" Tony growled, pointing at Rhodes with the end of a stray bottle. Red liquid dribbled from the end. Rhodes looked at his shoes.</p><p>"I'm sure."</p><p>"Oh, good. Carry me to bed, then, there's a good lad."</p><p>∆</p><p>Sharon's head was down, her hand whizzing across a page of handwritten notes, leaving a tidy line in its wake. Maria knocked on the desk and Sharon jerked out of some sort of trance, dropping her pen.</p><p>"Hill?"</p><p>"I came to say thank you."</p><p>"What for?" Sharon looked genuinely confused.</p><p>"Apparently I have you to thank for letting Fury know where to save my hide from," Maria explained. Sharon's face cleared.</p><p>"Just doing my job," she said. Maria raised her eyebrows. "Uh, you're welcome."</p><p>"I thought you were going to be some kind of idiot when we first met," Maria said, leaning her hip against the desk. Sharon looked embarrassed.</p><p>"Gave off that impression?"</p><p>"It was the legacy. I thought maybe it had gone to your head."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>"Seems like you tried very hard not to let it get that way," Maria guessed, eyes flicking up and over the arrangement of workspaces. Everyone else was on lunch break. Sharon ducked her head.</p><p>"I did my best."</p><p>"And you're a damn good agent." Sharon grinned at her paper. "Is that Carol Danvers?" Maria asked, straightening with a wince of pain, as a golden head disappeared down the corridor, following Fury. "Sharon, I'll be right back."</p><p>She took off, through the door, down the corridor, and just before Danvers and Fury entered Briefing 103, Danvers turned and spotted Maria.</p><p>And she winked, and disappeared through the door.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Bobbi/May CAN be soft and I will die on this hill. I've seen too much hardened warrior shit for them and I just want them to be HAPPY, even if in this AU the world is full of homophobes :'(</p><p>(Don't get me wrong I love the angst but these girls just need a break like damn)</p><p>Comment and kudos, feedback always appreciated! &lt;3</p><p>Shout at me on <a>Tumblr</a>, paperbeliefs</p><p>Or send me a fic prompt through submissions</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Status: Opposed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tony's in the gutter, and Harley and Rhodes deal with his fallout. Nat owes Steve, big time, but someone else has their ice pick in her shoulder.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes I have been watching gangster movies. It's research. Donnie Brasco is quality film.</p><p>Read Black Widow 2016 #1 and #2 :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Good to see you, Maria,” Carol said playfully, as she breezed out of the briefing room. Maria scowled at her. “You solve the Whitney Frost case yet?”</p><p>"I was reassigned," Maria snapped. Carol raised her eyebrows and nodded like it was the most interesting thing she'd ever heard.</p><p>"Why would that be?"</p><p>"I don't know," Maria said, through gritted teeth. "I was under the impression that someone else solved it first."</p><p>"Oh..." Carol breathed, eyes wide. "Shame."</p><p>"Drop it already," Maria grunted. "I know it was you." Carol grinned, all pretense gone.</p><p>"Come for a drink?"</p><p>"It's the middle of the day."</p><p>"A smoke?"</p><p>"I don't smoke."</p><p>Carol smiled sunnily at Maria's glare. Maria squinted at her.</p><p>"Why are you here?" she asked, looking Carol up and down. Rumpled blouse, creases on the thighs of her pants. Eyes ringed with shadows. Carol's eyes flickered over Maria's shoulder for a second, then back to her face. "You in trouble?"</p><p>"No, I'm not in trouble," Carol snapped, very suddenly, and her face closed off, cold.</p><p>"Carol-"</p><p>"Come for a smoke," Carol repeated, and her eyes widened, ever so slightly, red-veined whites. She really didn't look too good.</p><p>"Alright," Maria said, giving in. "Half an hour, then I've got to be back downstairs." She checked her watch. "Let's go."</p><p>Neither of them saw Sharon Carter's eyes following them down the stairwell.</p><p>∆</p><p>
  <em>"You're not just a kid from Rose Hill anymore," Stark said, the second the car door snapped closed. The leather seat was boiling hot, searing through Harley's pants, and he squirmed uncomfortably.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"No, sir-"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Shut the fuck up." Harley complied. Stark took a heave on his fat cigar, and turned to blow smoke out the open window. The grease in Harley's hair seemed to be melting in the LA heat, running down the back of his neck, mixing with his sweat. "You're big game now, Keener." Another draw on the cigar. "Means you gotta dress better. Get ridda that fuckin' mustache." Harley touched his lip self-consciously, and Stark offered him a cursory glance. "It's the rules." He coughed up a laugh. "Only big guys like me's allowed to get the hair, ya know?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Alright," Harley ventured.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You know what else it means, gettin' big like this?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I think I do," Harley said. This was going well. Real well. Stark snorted, good-naturedly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You got no fuckin' idea, huh?" he said, corner of his mouth curling up. He twisted in his seat, pointing the glowing end of the cigar at Harley's face, and slapped a heavy, calloused hand onto Harley's shoulder. "It means I represent you, kid. And you represent all these Greasemonkeys up here North."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yessir."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Nunna this 'yessir, nossir' shit no more, Keener," Stark warned. "What d'you say instead? You say, 'yeah, man, alright, fella'. Get me?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Alright, fella," Harley parroted.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Good, good. Y'ain't nobody's dog. Where was I?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Representation," Harley prompted.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah!" Stark growled, suddenly, almost startling Harley into a flinch. "Yeah, yeah. See, I represent you." He looked Harley heavily in the eye. "You gotta be acting like it. Remember kid: ain't nobody can touch you, now."</em>
</p><p>∆</p><p>Rhodes tossed the last bottle into the trash can and Harley heard it shatter with a wet smash.</p><p>"Shame you had to waste that," Harley called, tapping his pen against the desk.</p><p>"Oh yeah? What were you gonna do, sell forty crates of aged wine?" Rhodes replied.</p><p>"Maybe."</p><p>"To who?" Rhodes snorted. "The Captain?"</p><p>"Watch your tone," Harley shot back, irritated. Rhodes raised an eyebrow.</p><p>"Come again?"</p><p>"You're talking to an Iron Man," Harley snapped. Rhodes folded his arms, muscle bulging through the cloth of his suit. Harley narrowed his eyes.</p><p>"So are you, kid," he said, voice all but a growl. Frustration licked up Harley's spine, sudden, grating, and he stood with a crack of his chair, sweeping papers onto the floor.</p><p>"I'm not a kid!" he roared, slamming the pen so hard onto his desk that it snapped in his fist, ink spilling in between his knuckles. "I'm the boss here, Rhodes! You don't fuckin' talk to me like that or ya know what?"</p><p>"What?" Rhodes asked, cool as you please. "What, Keener? Come on, let's hear it."</p><p>"I'll fuckin' kill you," Harley bit out, through a trembling jaw, anger misting over his eyes. "You fucking respect me, Rhodes."</p><p>They glared at each other, Rhodes broad and stately, Harley shivering with feral energy.</p><p>"Sit your ass down," said Rhodes, eyes slitted, shoulders tense. Harley stared him down. "Sit. Down."</p><p>Harley collapsed back into his chair.</p><p>Rhodes placed his hands on the desk, flat palms, and his shoulders heaved. Harley threw his ruined pen to the side, ink seeping into the cracks of his knuckles.</p><p>"You're big dog up here, Keener." Harley scoffed, and Rhodes held up a hand. "I know I don't act like it. But you know I'm an LA homeboy. I go where Tony goes. Look at me." Harley dragged his gaze to Rhodes's face reluctantly, his own shoulders crumpled inside his silk shirt. "Don't get that pushed-aside feeling."</p><p>"No?" Harley said, bitterly.</p><p>"You've got control, Keener."</p><p>"Til Stark shows up, drunk off his ass, and starts a fight with Hydra."</p><p>"That fight was ongoing."</p><p>"That's not the point."</p><p>"Keener, listen to me. You may be made, huh, but Tony's boss. Tony's the Mechanic. The Iron Man. The Avenger."</p><p>"I get it, stop listin' his goddamn names," Harley growled.</p><p>"Point is, we all answer to him. All the time. But you got boss. And then you got you." Rhodes prodded Harley in his thin chest. "You're the next step down, Keener. Don't forget it." He moved away, crossing his arms again.</p><p>Harley scratched ink off his palm, the frustration ebbed away.</p><p>"Thanks, fella."</p><p>"Anytime, kid," replied Rhodes. Harley huffed, a tiny laugh.</p><p>"Shoulda saved summa that wine."</p><p>∆</p><p>"I told you I didn't mind hanging out," Natasha said, inspecting her nails. The cat settled its fat behind down on the ledge, and blinked at her steadily. Natasha tilted her head at it. "I told you I'd feed you once I'm a while. But I'm not adopting you." The cat lay down on its elbows, and licked her toe. Natasha jerked her foot away. "And you can't <em>lick</em> me," she snapped. The cat stared at her.</p><p>Natasha took a long, long sip of her wine, one foot dangling out in the cold, greasy air, cars slipping back and forth all that way below, down in the street.</p><p>"<em>Where is she?</em>"</p><p>Natasha's head snapped up, ear cocked to the distant shout. The door was closed, locked. </p><p>Deep, hungry, and there was the slam of a door.</p><p>It sounded like Steve.</p><p>She slipped off the window sill, setting her wine down, toes digging into the thick carpet, and made her way to the door. Outside in the hall, she could hear angry voices, Gwen's high snap, Steve's threatening growl.</p><p>She wasn't scared of him. But she knew why he was here.</p><p>The door to the room flung open, bouncing off the wall, and Steve stormed in, dragging a bloodied Yelena by the collar as she hissed and spat at him.</p><p>...okay, she didn't know why he was here.</p><p>Natasha watched the struggling pair coolly, and then Gwen bounded in, teeth set in a snarl, and Natasha held up a hand. Gwen hovered back.</p><p>Yelena kicked Steve in the nuts and he grunted and grabbed a handful of her hair. Yelena howled and lashed out at his ribs with sharp knuckles.</p><p>"Enough!" Natasha roared, drawing her gun, and the fight stilled. Yelena eyed the barrel. Steve panted, blood on his lip. "What the fuck, Rogers?"</p><p>Steve threw Yelena aside, and she stumbled into the desk, then fell at Natasha's feet, laboured breathing.</p><p>"Wanna explain yourself?" he snapped back.</p><p>"Excuse me?" Natasha growled, cold as ice, anger biting up her spine. "Explain <em>myself</em>? You're the one at the end of a gun, <em>pal</em>." Steve narrowed his eyes, breathing heavily.</p><p>"I meant," he said, "you wanna explain <em>that</em>?" He gestured sharply to Yelena, and she spat blood at him. It blotched on the carpet at his feet. </p><p>"I don't know what you mean," Natasha replied, blandly, finger loosening on the trigger. Goddamn, but she was in trouble.</p><p>"She was tucked up in bed with one 'a my guys," Steve spat. "What the hell is a spider doin' in bed with one 'a my guys?"</p><p>"Yelena has low standards," Natasha said, with a shrug. Yelena coughed indignantly, and Steve's face twisted.</p><p>"You need to tell me the truth, Romanova," he snapped, his accent mangling her name. "I know what you do." </p><p>Natasha hesitated, and then lowered the gun.</p><p>"Nah, you don't," she said. Steve gave a harsh laugh.</p><p>"So this ain't a brothel?"</p><p>"You know it ain't," Natasha replied angrily.</p><p>"Right," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "Cause no one knows what you do, huh? What <em>do</em> you do? Politicians?"</p><p>"We made deals, Steve," Natasha reminded him, but he didn't seem to be listening. "I get you shit, you don't question where I got it. Don't ask, don't tell. No one knows anythin' about the Widow."</p><p>"And you never slept anywhere dubious to get to the top, didja?"</p><p>"That's a clever word," Natasha growled back. "You know where clever words get you, Rogers."</p><p>"You're in trouble, Nat. And you ain't worming out of this time."</p><p>"I've got bigger fish than you," Natasha bit back.</p><p>"You keep your damn whores away from my people," Steve snapped.</p><p>"I don't run a fucking whore house!" Natasha shrieked back, losing her composure, and Steve snapped, massive hand slamming into her face before she had a second to react, and he strode over Yelena and grabbed Natasha round the throat, slammed her into the wall. Her feet left the floor, and she coughed, the blood rushing in her head, gasping as Steve's thick fingers tightened.</p><p>"You broke Bucky," he growled, and there was tobacco and brandy on his breath, hot and stinking against her cheek. "You fucked him and kicked him out. You didn't kill Barton, you sent Belova in to steal one of my guys, and you let Hill walk. We've had just about enough of you, Black Widow." </p><p>He let go, and Natasha dropped, sliding down the wall, her knees almost giving out. She steadied herself. Behind Steve's massive arm, Gwen watched, wide-eyed, balled fists.</p><p>"And who's we?" she managed, massaging her throat. Steve cracked his knuckles, like he was regretting going that far.</p><p>"We met without you," he said. Natasha's stomach contracted with sudden rage.</p><p>"You--" her throat seized up. </p><p>"Yeah," Steve said, smirking now, like he was enjoying this. Natasha glared furiously at him. "The 7 met without you, Nat. We're done with you now."</p><p>"And they sent you as messenger?" Natasha spat, embarrassment and anger clouding her cheeks with heat.</p><p>"I had a bone to pick with you," Steve said. "And if you don't get your people in order, we're going to war. You just remember that." He turned away, as if to leave.</p><p>"You're threatening me?" Natasha spat.</p><p>"Yeah," Steve said over his shoulder. "If you kill Barton, we can let it slide. But if not..." he grinned backwards at her, too many teeth, and Natasha smothered a shiver. He walked to the door, shoved past Gwen, and strode down the corridor. Natasha watched his broad back retreat, and then turned to the windowsill, snatched up her wine, and downed it.</p><p>Yelena climbed to her feet, smoothing down her hair. It stuck up like straw under her hand.</p><p>"I'll kill him," she volunteered. "I'll kill Barton." Natasha shook her head. Her throat was still hoarse, and her anger was still raw.</p><p>"We've got bigger threats," she said.</p><p>"What the hell could be bigger than war with the 7?" Yelena said, and Natasha silenced her with a look.</p><p>"Remember the Headmistress?" she asked. Yelena's shoulders contracted, and a snarl crept across her lip.</p><p>"You know I do."</p><p>"We've got trouble with the Red Room yet," Natasha replied.</p><p>"But we gave 'em over to the brass!" Yelena protested.</p><p>"It goes deep," Natasha said. "Gwen, bring Peter in." Gwen nodded and dashed off. "I got a message yesterday," she said. "I--" she hesitated.</p><p>"Anya," Yelena growled.</p><p>"Yeah." Natasha shook her head, setting her glass down. "Barton's personal. I'll take him down myself. I want you to find Anya. We'll have Matt work as a buffer against the 7 'til I can work this out." Yelena nodded. "And I don't want you in anyone else's bed," Natasha warned, as an afterthought, and Yelena pouted with a hidden grin.</p><p>"But he was so <em>easy</em>." Natasha rolled her eyes.</p><p>"Who was it?" she asked.</p><p>"Peter Quill," Yelena replied silkily. Natasha snorted.</p><p>"Was he at least good?"</p><p>"Terrible," Yelena snickered, and Natasha suppressed a smile. "He was injured, though. Shot in the neck. Still."</p><p>"Go to work, Belova."</p><p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Guys. I look like I'm inches from death. I have the WORST haircut I've ever tried to give myself. I've been doped up in painkillers all day and I woke up this morning in a pool of my own blood. If you feel like making me feel loved, comment :) &lt;3</p><p>Anyway this was fun I'm gonna go sit in the bath</p><p>(This was meant to be one chapter but I had to split off the end so ig ur gonna have to find out next chapter what happens to Gamora, Maria, Carol, Clint, Coulson and Peter Quill *shrugs in useless procrastinator*) love ya</p><p>Find me on Tumblr @paperbeliefs</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Status: Point</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gamora defects. Barton runs into a spot of trouble.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wassup. Kidnapping and very questionable ethics in this chapter so skip if you dont vibe with that</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You kicked her out?" Tony shrieked, eyes bugging.</p><p>"Calm down," Steve grumbled. T'Challa leant back in his chair, tight-knuckled.</p><p>"I think Mr Stark has a point."</p><p>"I don't need this right now from you, T'Challa," Steve snapped. "You two weren't around, so we came to a decision."</p><p>"Oh, you did?" Tony snorted. He was shaking, like he was in withdrawal. Steve didn't look him in the eye. "You did, Stevie? You and Bruce and Thor and <em>Loki</em> came to a decision?"</p><p>"I trust Loki. Have care how you speak," growled Thor.</p><p>"I don't trust him," Tony snapped back. Loki licked his lips. He looked like he was straining to hold back a grin. "Bruce? Seriously?" Bruce looked at Thor. Looked at the floor.</p><p>"She's gonna try and kill us either way," he mumbled.</p><p>"Jesus," Tony hissed. "Jesus Christ."</p><p>"Look at the positives," Steve replied. "We're back to the Avengers. No more Barton and Natasha sneaking around behind our backs."</p><p>"Steve, you threatened the Widow," Tony groaned. "Jesus, if I had an ounce of strength left in me I'd kill you myself to save her the trouble."</p><p>∆</p><p>The door was open. Sunlight on the thick boards. Gamora pushed it further open with her toe and Peter jumped, turning away from the window with a wide eye.</p><p>"Gamora?" He wasn't wearing a shirt. There was a bandage around his neck and shoulder. "Hell, what happened to you? I thought you were dead." But he wasn't coming over. He wasn't rushing to her, he was stuck there, feet glued to the ground. Gamora looked him up and down.</p><p>"I want back in," she said. Peter blinked at her. The sun was glowing on one side of his face, turning his eyes pale and gold.</p><p>"You look like shit," he said. Those words stuck in her, ice cold in a wound, and Gamora flinched.</p><p>"I said I want back in," she growled. "I got away from that Ward bastard. I didn't give Hydra anything."</p><p>"Hydra's gone, Gamora," Peter replied. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Cap axed you." Gamora's skin crawled with a sudden cold, and she stepped backwards in shock. Peter stared at the floor.</p><p>"What?" she hissed. "No. No, I want--"</p><p>"He didn't care what you want," Peter said roughly. "You're axed. That's all it is." He glanced at the door. "You could be killed even for being here. You should go."</p><p>"Peter," Gamora said, hating the plea in her voice, but he should look at her, should show just a sliver of the way he'd looked at her before everything went to shit. "Please." He turned back to the window, and his head hung.</p><p>"You should go."</p><p>"Just get me an audience with him--"</p><p>"I can't get you anything!" he snapped, and he looked up once again, fierce, dry eyes. Oh, she could see so clearly now. He did not want her. "Go. I don't-- go, and I won't have to kill you."</p><p>"Kill me?" Gamora snarled. Peter flinched, but stood his ground. She could snap his neck right now. She wanted to, <em>God</em> she wanted to. Gamora curled her hands into sharp fists.</p><p>Or she could wait. Make him scared for it, draw panic out of him.</p><p>"Please, go," Peter said weakly. How easy it was, to turn so fast.</p><p>If he wouldn't have her, Gamora knew who would.</p><p>∆</p><p>"Don't say 'make your bed and lie in it'," Carol said, flicking ash onto the floor. "Or I'll thump you." Maria raised an eyebrow.</p><p>"I wasn't going to." Carol grunted, drew on her cigarette. "That was pretty stupid, though." Carol elbowed her half-heartedly in the ribs. "Ow."</p><p>"I don't know what I'm gonna do," Carol growled. </p><p>"What did you ask for from Fury?" Maria asked.</p><p>"Help, mostly. I wanna get that Stark son of a bitch before he gets me."</p><p>"That's a hell of an assignment," Maria observed. "He's well-protected."</p><p>"I was <em>hoping</em> to get to his daddy," Carol grumbled. "Looks like he's close to kicking it, though."</p><p>"Careful, there," Maria warned, nodding to the security camera above the stairwell. Carol hissed smoke out through her teeth.</p><p>"I'm in serious trouble, Maria."</p><p>"I can tell. There's not much I can do, though," Maria replied. Carol rubbed her eyes with the back of her wrist. It was starting to get damp and foggy down in the alley, the clouds closing in, the sun sinking over the city's towers and roofs.</p><p>"I know. Shit, though."</p><p>"You might just hope he thinks you didn't tell S.H.I.E.L.D he was behind the murders all this time."</p><p>"I might just hope the sky splits open and Judgement Day starts early right now," Carol snapped back, dry.</p><p>A door opened above them, clank and creak of old metal, and Carol stubbed the cigarette out on the fire escape banister. They both craned their necks up.</p><p>"Hill? You down there?" It was Sharon.</p><p>"Yeah," Maria replied. "Coming up. Carol--"</p><p>"I'll see you," Carol said, cutting her off. She stuffed her hands in her pant pockets and sighed. Smoke climbed out of her mouth. She made to move away, and Maria grabbed her elbow. Carol stared at her hand.</p><p>"Listen, someone owes me," Maria said, very quietly. She glanced upwards. Sharon was waiting, hanging around. "I might be able to...I don't know. Keep you safe."</p><p>"Maria," Carol said, and her voice was low and deep. She leant forwards. "If you've got someone like them who owes you, you don't blow that on someone like me." She pulled back. "You wait 'til you're about to get fuckin' maimed by the Widow, you wait 'til you're about to get hit down by God herself, <em>then</em> you call that in." She tugged her arm away, and Maria frowned, but before she could say, ask anything, Carol was walking away.</p><p>The lantern out in the street put down a pale glow, and Carol walked into it, out the mouth of the alley. She paused for a second, head hung, sombre in the dusky light, and then she turned left and walked off.</p><p>"Hill!" Sharon called again, and Maria blinked, snapping back to focus.</p><p>"Coming," she called, and she swung around the end of the stairs, started taking them two at a time with a smack of metal against shoe sole. As she climbed, she couldn't shake a sudden feeling, dragged up from Carol's parting words: that she was in a little too deep, now.</p><p>She had been for a while.</p><p>∆</p><p>"Okay, Hill, we are very much behind on time, so you have to listen and soak it up, okay?" Fury said, as soon as Maria's ass had touched the seat. She nodded, her brain going a mile a minute.</p><p>There was Carter, regal behind her desk, Howard Stark, nursing yet another whiskey, Daniel 'LA Captain' Sousa, Colonel Phillips with a rock-cut scowl. Maria felt like she'd been dumped directly onto the red carpet.</p><p>"This is a task force, essentially," Fury said, dropping a thick file onto the table in front of Maria. "Made up of S.H.I.E.L.D secret service, science division agents, field operatives, and one techie. Headed by Phil Coulson, once he manages to get his ass up outta bed, Maria Rambeau, and--" Fury tugged on his lapel, suppressing a smile-- "you, Agent Hill."</p><p>Maria took a long, long second to process.</p><p>"Me," she said, slowly. Stark took a long slurp of his drink.</p><p>"This is a promotion," Sousa put in, unhelpfully.</p><p>"Thanks," Maria said weakly. Her head was spinning. This was-- was this happening? Had Carol been smoking pot right next to her? Had Sharon poisoned her lunch?</p><p>"Hill," Fury said, snapping his fingers in front of her face. Maria blinked, shook herself back into focus.</p><p>"Yes, sir," she said. "I-- who's in it?"</p><p>"It's all in there," Fury said, gesturing to the file. "And I hope you can skim read, Hill, because the first briefing's in..." he checked his watch. "...twenty two minutes." Maria tried not to gape. She felt like the room was shrinking. This was <em>incredible</em>. It felt like pressure on her forehead. "We're calling it S.W.O.R.D," Fury said, triumphantly.</p><p>"Catchy," Maria gasped. "May I ask what the force objective is?" Carter leant forwards, folding blood-red nails into fists on her desk, and Maria gulped.</p><p>"The objective," she said, through her teeth, "is ridding America of these mafioso rats once and for all. And you will succeed."</p><p>Maria believed her. She couldn't <em>not</em>. Peggy Carter was ruthless, and when she wanted something done, it did got done.</p><p>Maria practically ran from the room.</p><p>∆</p><p>“Shipment’s in,” Peter said, sticking his head around Natasha’s office door. “They’re late.”</p><p>“Two weeks late,” Natasha growled, loading a tiny pistol. “I’m busy today. Deal with them however <em>Elektra</em> sees fit.” She din’t miss the disappointment flashing across Peter’s face. “You might be Spider-Man, kid, but I ain’t devoid of morals.”</p><p>“The shippers’re angling for a rise in price,” Peter said uneasily, after a hesitation. Natasha glared at her pistol and slid it into a holster under her skirt.</p><p>“Kill four of them,” she snapped, her patience wearing thin.</p><p>“And there’s a girl hanging around Tommaso’s. He’s getting antsy, says she gives him the creeps.”</p><p>“Put Gwen on it. She could do with a job after getting her ass beat.”</p><p>“Sure,” Peter said. “Where are you going?”</p><p>“Mind your business, kid,” Natasha snapped. “Close the door on your way out.”</p><p>“There’s someone else to see you,” Peter protested, and he slipped away again. Natasha glared after him.</p><p>∆</p><p>“Good to see you back on your feet, Coulson.”</p><p>“You look like shit,” he replied, a weary smile, and Maria punched his shoulder. “Ow.”</p><p>“Is Barton recovering? May?”</p><p>“They are.”</p><p>“Good,” Maria said, “we need them.” She nodded across the room to Maria Rambeau, a tall dark skin woman with a sharp crease in her trousers and a gleam in her eye. “Introduce me.”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Coulson said. “Agent Rambeau?” He waved her over. “This is Agent Hill.”</p><p>“Nice briefing,” Rambeau said, sticking her hand out with a grin. “Carol talks about you sometimes. Good to meet the legend in person.” Maria shook her hand, her mouth falling open.</p><p>“I—“ she gulped nerves down.</p><p>“She’s honoured to meet you,” Coulson replied cheerfully, and Rambeau’s grin widened. Maria stepped discreetly on Coulson’s foot.</p><p>“You know Carol?” Maria asked.</p><p>“Oh, we’re too close,” Rambeau said, masked with fond annoyance. Her eyes flickered to Coulson. Maria caught it all. She’d had that before. May and Morse had it. Hell, Coulson and Clint were on their way there.</p><p>“We should get mission plans going,” Coulson said suddenly, as silence drifted down. Rambeau grinned again, dazzling. </p><p>“Absolutely. Hill, after you?”</p><p>∆</p><p>“I want in,” Gamora said. Natasha stared at her. The Captain’s favourite hit girl, silver tattoos and braided hair and neck-breaking hands hanging loosely by her side, was standing in Natasha’s office and asking for a job.</p><p>“Why?” Natasha asked.</p><p>“I almost got jumped by a Hydra boy,” Gamora muttered. “I took a while off to hunt him, and when I couldn’t find him, I laid low. When I got back...I’d been axed.” Natasha surveyed her carefully. No hint of a lie in those dark eyes. Disgust. Shame. Hope. She was desperate.</p><p>“Happens to the best of us,” Natasha said, slowly, and Gamora looked up like she couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d have to break this girl in. “How’d you feel about a jump on a guy with a broken leg?”</p><p>“I say how much is he worth?” Gamora replied, a gleam in her eye, but cautious. Natasha stuck out her hand. Someone had to stop tiptoeing, or they’d never get anywhere.</p><p>“Looks like you got yourself a job, Greenie.”</p><p>“I have one condition,” Gamora said quickly, and Natasha raised one eyebrow.</p><p>“Talk, and we’ll see.”</p><p>∆</p><p>He wanted to get back to work, badly. Clint hobbled to the trash cans, rearranging his crutch so’s it didn’t chafe so bad. He tossed the pizza box in, and replaced the lid with a <em>clang</em>.</p><p>He turned back to the door, and someone blocked his path, slight and small and red-haired. Clint froze.</p><p><em>Hey, Barton</em>, Natasha signed. Clint stared at her.</p><p>“Nat?”</p><p>Fear chased his question like a dog, and Romanoff must have seen it cross his face. She grinned like a beautiful, poisonous shark. She leaned her hip against the door jamb.</p><p><em>Go for a walk</em>? she asked, perfectly manicured nails flashing blood-red. Clint swallowed. He was fucked. He was fucked.</p><p>And to think, ten seconds ago he’d been lament in about a damn broken leg.</p><p>“Can I say no?” he asked, forcing the tremor from his voice.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t be stupid. You have no more choices.</em>
</p><p>“Kate!” Clint roared, and someone dropped down behind him, and he had time for a flicker of absolute, pant-wetting terror from that Widow’s vengeful smile before he was knocked hard on the back of the head. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.</p><p>∆</p><p>“She says no,” Elektra said, fingering her knife idly. “Move on, and save yourself, I’d say.”</p><p>“You think you can threaten us?” the biggest man leered. Silver Boy, that was his name. Not very frightening. But he had sharp teeth and mean eyes and thick muscles, and Peter didn’t like him. Elektra narrowed her eyes.</p><p>“So you have chosen death?”</p><p>“I don’t negotiate with grubby little refugees like you,” Silver sneered. Elektra’s knife flashed across his throat, and with a spray of blood and a shocked gurgle, Silver fell and died slowly, his face squished into the concrete of the docks. Peter’s stomach writhed ever so slightly, and he focused on the smell of salt and body odour and fish to quash the feeling. He could never afford that. But Spider-Man was supposed to have a conscience.</p><p>He thought.</p><p>The other five started forward with shouts, fists raised, and Elektra went to work, blades arcing like molten mercury. Peer had to look away, and seconds later, when he dared another glance, Elektra had the final worker on his knees, his comrades bloodied and unmoving around him.</p><p>“Consider this a little more than a warning,” Elektra said, and without another word, she turned and started to walk away, tucking her blood-slick knives into her coat. The worker looked helplessly at Peter. Peter managed a shrug, his breath damp on the inside of his mask.</p><p>“If you call the police, pal,” he said, “you’re next.” The worker nodded frantically, tears welling in his eyes. Peter turned away.</p><p>∆</p><p>Gamora tossed a cup of cold water over Clint’s head and he jerked awake with a gasp, blinking away the water. He shook his head, confused.</p><p>“Natasha...” he slurred, squinting through what had to be his ninetieth head injury. Natasha took a sip of her wine. “Oh, God.”</p><p>“That’s right,” she said, enjoying the look on his pallid face. “Poor Kate...was a little too slow.” Clint’s eyes widened.</p><p>“You didn’t—“ he managed. Gamora tossed another cup of cold water at him, and he spat it away. “Tasha, if you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” he snarled, straining against the rope around his wrists.</p><p>“You’ll kill me,” Natasha repeated slowly, making sure he could read her lips. “While tied to a chair. With a broken leg. After killing Gamora, too.” Clint’s lips formed the word <em>Gamora</em>, and then his head swung around to goggle at Gamora. She shrugged at him, and signed, <em>You’ve been replaced</em>. Natasha sipped her wine again, and Clint looked back at her.</p><p>“What do you want?” he asked.</p><p>“You don’t get to know that anymore,” Natasha replied, lacing her words with easy spite. “You’ve got some information I need, Clinton. And I want it. Now.” He tipped his chin up, and <em>oh</em>, she’d missed his easy defiance. Stubbornness. She shouldn’t romanticise it.</p><p>“No,” he said. And Natasha grinned.</p><p>∆</p><p>Bishop burst into the planning room at ten to four, her hair wild, a huge bruise forming on her cheek.</p><p>“Barton’s been snatched,” she blurted. Maria’s heart slammed into her stomach.</p><p>“Who?” Rambeau demanded. They all knew already.</p><p>“Romanova,” Bishop said.</p><p>“I’m going in,” Maria said instantly, and she was halfway out of her chair when Coulson grabbed her arm harshly.</p><p>“No,” he said. </p><p>“Coulson—“</p><p>“Not you, too, Maria.” His expression was dark.</p><p>“We don’t have long, you know that,” Maria snapped, desperately. “Not now she’s got him. He could already be dead.” It was a lie, but Coulson latched hopelessly onto it. He released her arm.</p><p>“Plan,” he said.</p><p>“Already got one,” Maria said. That was a truth, that time. Even if something like guilt, or shame, was suddenly sticky on her insides. “You won’t like it, though.”</p><p>“I never do,” Coulson said. Maria took a breath. Time to do her job. She set her jaw. Barton was depending on her, now. They had no more time left.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>YOOOOOOO i’m back, bitches :) I’m excited, too, so hopefully next chapter will come very soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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